


Metamorphosis

by Webtrinsic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Ahsoka Tano-centric, Ahsoka grows Fangs, Ahsoka sprouts Wings, BAMF Ahsoka Tano, Body Horror, Changed destiny, Eldritch Ahsoka Tano, Force God Ahsoka Tano, Goddess Ahsoka, Hurt/Comfort, Loth-Wolves (Star Wars), Melancholy, Pain, Planet Mortis (Star Wars), Post-Mortis Arc (Star Wars: The Clone Wars), Protective Anakin Skywalker, References to Mortis Arc (Star Wars: The Clone Wars), The World Between Worlds (Star Wars), Togruta Culture & Traditions (Star Wars), Togrutas (Star Wars), Unhappy Ending, morai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: With Anakin Skywalker declining to take the gods place on Mortis, for their final act they entrust their powers to his padawan instead. This exchange of powers changes the girl in more ways than one, but it's the only way to stave off the Aboleth.
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano & Shaak Ti, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 10
Kudos: 91





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> I love force god ahsoka so much, her taking over for the force gods sounds amazing, i saw some fan art for it and then my brain was like :0 i must go further with this au and give her some lovely fangs and wings :) plus her lovely blue eyes surrounded by the black is terrifying and awe inspiring

The phantom feeling of her master’s embrace stays with her as she prepares for bed, Anakin more insistent than normal that she get some rest. Her head is still fuzzy, Mortis not quite done with her, or more accurately she wasn’t done with it if her curiosity meant anything. 

But she’d always been a curious girl, it was simply more prevalent now that she can’t remember a damn thing other than waking up fearful only for Anakin to spring forward to provide comfort. More so than he usually does, and she’s reminded of the day she’d woken up after saving Barriss from the wretched worms. She’d actually hoped he’d hug her then, him doing it now meant this situation had been worse. Far worse.

He doesn’t tell her a lot of things, Ahsoka knows this, but even Obi Wan didn’t seem to be in the mood for answering her questions. The both of them were sealed tight and if she wasn’t mistaken, it’d seem they wanted to forget the whole thing in the way she had.

Their reluctance has her doubt her need for answers. As does her fatigue. There's knots in her muscles, her shoulder blades aching, and her head panging. Her eyes are dry with strain, and oddly her gums feel the slightest bit raw.

Maybe Anakin was right, she does need to sleep.

* * *

Normally eating rations was painful because of their taste, now it’s just painful. The nerves in her teeth are shot, and if she’s correct it almost feels as if her canines are pushing forwards, growing too.

There’s an idle thought to ask Kix for something to take the edge off, but she has a feeling Anakin would have an aneurysm if he found out she went to medical without telling him.

Plus Kix probably wouldn’t know what to do either, he knew the basics he’d need to handle her treatments, but her fangs growing? That was something she’d either have to talk with the healers with and potentially Master Shaak Ti.

She’d assumed her fangs were already fully grown, and she didn’t exactly know if they kept growing like her lekku and montrals did. Master Shaak Ti’s lips were also full like her own, hiding her teeth when she spoke, so Ahsoka couldn’t be sure the woman’s fangs had done the same.

She was no stranger to growing pains, her lekku and montrals had been tedious at times of substantial growth, so she dealt with it. Seemingly fragile teeth carefully gnawing at the ration bar, ignoring the consistent lingering glances her master sent her.

She really wants to know what happened on Mortis.

* * *

Pain is what wakes her, the putrid taste of rust sits in her mouth. Blood dried and not sat in-between her teeth, and her lips are the slightest bit pushed forward, parted. Her tongue and the inside of her lips are cut, deep lacerations that color the whites of her teeth crimson.

More blood is drawn when she drags her tongue over her teeth, her canines had grown significantly. They’d pushed forward, shifting the surrounding teeth so everything fit snugly and so that her bottom teeth were aligned perfectly with the top.

The fangs were long, tall, the tips of her fangs reaching half way across the others. They were littered with  _ her _ blood and there’s an inner, primal dark instinct that tells her next time it won’t be. 

She needs to call Shaak Ti, now. We’ll, after she brushes her teeth. 

The bristles feel similar to knives as she spends far too long running the brush over her teeth in small rhythmic circles. She’s a little surprised Anakin hasn’t commed her or came to check on her, then again he’s been padding her creature comforts as of late.

Extra snacks, lighter training unless he was present to supervise, and a lot more time to sleep. 

The togruta cups her hands, cupping the water to intake and swish, blood tainting the water. A thick concoction of brown and red paste swirling down the drain after falling painfully from her raw battered lips.

Her mouth still felt dirty, so her tangerine hands got to work on running a towel under the warming water before running it over the ivory. 

The throbbing distracts her from her other ailments, dry stinging eyes, and a tenderness littering the backs of her shoulders. 

Stepping out into the hallway, she’s practically accosted by Rex, or more accurately she accosted him by running right into him.

“Sir,” He’s at attention immediately, and Ahsoka fights back a groan at the pressure in her mouth.

“Sorry Rex,” the apology is muttered, her teeth tugging at her speech, and Ahsoka is immediately stuck with the tedious task of learning to speak without a lisp. His head tilts curiously in response, and there’s a clear hesitance to even speak. 

But thankfully he doesn’t ask what's wrong, “Are you heading to the mess Sir?” No, she wasn’t planning on eating, the thought of gnashing with her new overstimulated fangs made her nauseous, but if Kix was there she’d have to fetch him.

She knows she is playing with fire, striking a match, but she has to ask, “Is Kix there?” The man flinches, movements startled and upset, and although he tries to be discreet giving her a once over, he doesn’t have a helmet to hide his worried eyes. 

Ahsoka can feel his restraint, hand shaking, and she knows he’s raring to inform Anakin immediately. She wasn’t privy to what happened on Mortis, she doubted Rex did either, but he knew her well-being was in question and Anakin’s protective instincts were at an all time high. He didn’t have to know what had happened to retain that she was to be put under watch.

“No Sir, he just headed back to medical a few moments ago,” Rex is terse, like when he gives orders that he knows the troops may not be able to follow. “Is everything alright Sir?” He’s using her title in excess and Ahsoka’s too out of it to call him out for it.

“Growing pains,” she laments easily, shrugging him off before heading towards medical. Her tremendous hearing catches the blip of Rex’s comm, sealing her fate that Anakin would likely be waiting for her in medical or would barge in while Kix administered her something for the pain.

At least with him there she can ask if Master Shaak Ti is available to call. 

* * *

Kix’s face is ashen when she bares her teeth, intimidated as if she’d leap forward and maul him as if she were nothing more than a vicious Akul. Anakin hasn’t kicked down the door yet but she can sense his approach.

CT-6116 is handing her pills and a glass of water when the chosen one finally steps in. His brow is pinched, the energy around him frantic, steely eyes scoping her out without any discretion.

Anakin had never been shy with his concern, she appreciated it more than the Jedi detested it. 

“Is it your montrals?” The jedi steps forward, arms crossed over his chest, willing her to answer. Ahsoka actually has to give him some points, if she was having growing pains, her lekku and montrals were the most likely candidates since they never stopped growing.

That also made it all the more awkward when she shook her head, knowing her voice was muttered and was still trying to figure out how to talk without her elongated fangs tearing the skin. She doubted he’d react well to her speaking with blood dribbling from her lips.

His scarred brow rose, a questioning look on his face, she certainly hadn’t had any growth spurts lately, but togruta were often tall. In fact she’d probably be eye level with him someday, and even still her montrals would rise like mountains. She’d tower over him, he was just as proud as he was embarrassed.

Growing pains, those were normal, to be expected. His own legs had ached a bit when he surpassed Obi-Wan. His heart was still racing and her silence wasn’t helping. His head swivels to Kix, who awkwardly gestures back to the togruta.

Ahsoka takes the que, the desperate call for help, and gives Anakin her biggest smile exposing deadly ravenous teeth. His shock is written clearly on his face, and all too suddenly something comes to light.

The togruta feels how high his shields are but the darkness within him roars, calling to her, if she gazes hard enough she’s almost sure she’d see a plume of it surrounding him. Her lips purse, smile gone as Anakin’s arm raises to his mouth activating his comm.

She doesn’t remember most of the events on Mortis, but her nightmares are forever fresh in her turbulent mind. Throwing back her head and downing the pills, she focused on chasing it with the frigid water. It’s a small bit of reprieve from Anakin’s warbling, far too commanding tone as he asks the answering clone for Shaak Ti.

An all too long second passes before the holo image of the Jedi Mistress appears, regal and all consuming as ever. There’s something in those eyes that let’s Ahsoka know the woman had caught onto Anakin’s plight while remaining composed and the embodiment of an avid listener.

“Master Skywalker,” her head dips, and Ahsoka feels a pinch at her lips when she instinctively smiles. She liked master Shaak Ti, her earnest forgiving nature, and her warmth and compassion for the clones. Plus there was only one other togruta in the temple beside the woman, a youngling, so all Ahsoka had to turn to really when it came to her cultural identity was the older togruta. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” her head turns, taking in the surrounding area. It did not go past her that this call was originating from medical, and Ahsoka was sitting on the exam table.

“Ahsoka’s having some growi-uh...canine problems?” 

Shaak Ti turns fully to Ahsoka now, and Kix silently excuses himself while Anakin is effectively zoned out by the two women.

“It isn’t uncommon for fangs to sometimes shift if your diet isn’t met, receed-”

“They’re not receding,” Ahsoka cuts in, baring her teeth to a surprised Shaak Ti who’s violet eyes widen with confusion.

“We’ll rendezvous with you soon, I think this is something best handled in person,” it’s almost ominous, she bows again and the holo is gone. Anakin isn’t pleased and Ahsoka doesn’t know what to tell him. She braves the cloud of darkness as she approaches, giving him a hug which he easily returns. 

* * *

When she does arrive, she brings a healer with her, and they head towards medical. Anakin is not allowed in the room.

“Ahsoka, you do realize I have to ask. Did you file your teeth?” she doesn’t sound like she believes Ahsoka would, but it is a cosmetic practice that some people do, mainly twi’leks, but also when it came to force sensitives, dark side wielders adored it.

“I know,” she assures knowing Shaak Ti had to ask, “I didn’t do anything to them,” unless...Ahsoka pushes off the thought, if she’d done something to trigger it on Mortis, Anakin would have known by now.

“We’ll this certainly is odd,” her hand inches forward, “May I?” 

Ahsoka nodes in acquiesce, letting the woman pull down her bottom lip, uncovering the healing scarring the new fangs had made. Careful not to prod the raw and open cuts, she motions for the other healer to come closer, and the Kaminoan takes notes.

Her upper lip is maneuvered in the same manner, teeth prodded by Shaak Ti’’s fingers, even the slightest graze drawing blood. She rinses with water while the Kaminoan gets the materials ready to test the young togruta’s blood.

The tests are inconclusive, and there’s really not much they can do. The Kaminoan bundles up gauze that Ahsoka fit’s between her lips and gums, and the war goes on.

* * *

She’s sure she’s been feeling more of the force than she’d ever before, the dark, the light, the grey in-between. Her voice was back to normal, having learned to speak around the fangs; now she feels as if she’d lived with them forever. 

It’s not the only thing that’s been changing, she can’t sleep on her back anymore. She thinks it’s because of a bad force push she’d been on the other end of, and the stinging of her eyes doesn’t frighten her either. 

War is all smoke and debris, it’d be a miracle she didn’t face some form of irritation. But it doesn’t explain why the veins in her eyes are slowly but surely changing from red to black. In fact, not that she could see, the backs of her eyes inside her skull were already turned, soon there would be no white left.

* * *

Obi-Wan and Anakin are unconscious on the ground and she doesn’t quite understand how she wins the fight. Her force signatures roars and she slashes and dives, a force to be reckoned with.

If she’s entirely honest, she’s almost reminded about the awesome bouts of power Anakin let’s out so very rarely when things are absolutely dire. Even the enemies, the supposedly emotionless droids, watch her as if she was something daunting.

She’s beginning to feel otherworldly, there’s a whole battalion of droids in her wake that she takes down on her own before she is able to call for backup. Ahsoka doesn’t say a thing, even to Rex, and when she gives the report later that day, they accept her lie that Anakin had done the most, displayed one of his godly cataclysmic wraths and subsequently passed out because of it. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan are so out of it when she hands them the report as they sit in medical they don’t even question it. Anakin actually looks smug, grinning up at her: “Snips I guess that means I won this round,”

The togruta smiles, exasperatedly turning her head and rolling her eyes, it hadn’t been intentional, but maybe if she had been facing his way, he’d have seen the impending obsidian taking over.

“You got lucky Skyguy,” he had, but it was her who beat him that day. Luckily unlike her master, she could reign in her pride. For him, always for him.

* * *

Ahsoka struggles to sleep that night, the nerves in her back strike like lightning. Her shoulders on fire. There’s something under the skin, moving, stretching. The affliction alone startles her to her feet, running to the refresher as if there were seppies on her tail.

She can’t see her back, her neck craning as she tries to look in the mirror to find out what was happening to her. In a flash two protrusions jump out of her skin, tearing through epidermis. 

She’s never been so fortunate to wear backless attire, she doesn’t want to imagine her festering wounds picking and pulling at the cotton. The fabric sticking to the open gnashes that bone-cartilage shows through. A compound fracture.

The world spins around her, and she tries so desperately to find a focal point to lock her eyes onto to regain her equilibrium. What she finds instead is black where the whites of her eyes should be before toppling to the ground in shock.

The refreshers had always been soundproof, a blessing, but in this instance a curse because no one hears her scream. Wailing in agony as the long beginnings of wings take up the room, their width curling around her in the small confines of the room. White blazing feathers with silver tips sprouting like quills.

It had been Anakin the gods had wanted to take in their place, his power already apparent. But he’d said no, he’d rejected their offer but the Mother would be coming without someone in their place.

And although the little dysfunctional family couldn’t see eye to eye, they could all agree on Ahsoka. The master was far too gone already, his tethering to the light and his calling to the dark leaned to each side and tipped the scales too far to resemble balance, but she did.

So as their final act, they give her this. They give her their power and their marks. The fangs of the son, the wings of the daughter, and the eyes of the father. Anakin was the Jedi’s chosen one, but Ahsoka was the god’s chosen champion. The new keeper of Mortis. The keeper of the mother, and the ruler of the world between worlds.

The togruta pulls herself back to consciousness at the rapping at the fresher door, her master’s force signature booming. Had it always been so dark?

_ “Ahsoka,” _ her name pangs through the force, he could override the lock. Really he could also simply open it with the force, but he’s refraining, and she realizes it’s because he’s afraid of what he’ll see. But she knows if she doesn’t respond soon, he’ll be breaking down that door without remorse in seconds.

_ “Help,”  _ It’s the most dangerous thing she could ever ask, but it feels as if a wookie had hugged her in the same way a touch starved child clings to a tooka doll. The door slides open with a devastating and grating hiss as it scrapes the lining.

The noise has her flinching, the light harsh on her transformed eyes. The world is fuzzy, her master is so fuzzy in her exhausted, battered state. But he’s gut wrenchingly careful as he maneuvers her into his lap as he falls to his knees.

The wings drag behind her as her face tips into his throat, panting heavily against his skin that she knows is only putting him more and more on edge.

“Can you move them?” he whispers, petting her stripes in comfort, his forearm wrapped tightly around her lower back, keeping her still as not to potentially aggravate her further.

“I don’t know,” her voice is chalk, pathetic and whiny as a whimper. She knows he’s about to ask her to try, so the convor wings inch closer to her back little by little. Burst of energy pushed across their bond, Anakin providing the strength she was lacking on her own.

By the time the wings are folded and tucked against her back, her weight is pressing her master down, the man equally as exhausted as her, nearly slumping to the ground himself. He can’t, no, he needs to get her to the doctor, needs to call the Jedi council, he  _ needs _ her to be okay.

His legs nearly crumble under her new weight, the wings throwing him off guard. It’s not terribly heavy, but he’s been far too strung out, it doesn’t stop him from rushing down the hall. The clones he passes by hug the walls to get out of his way, gawking at the winged padawan in his grip.

Kix even freezes as Anakin tries to set her down, but with renewed strength Ahsoka refuses to let go of her master. And although she doesn’t want to let go, Mortis calls to her, and with a blast of blinding light Anakin and Kix are alone in medical. The chosen one confused and absolutely terrified.

* * *

She wakes in a new Mortis, in a new grand castle, on a bed softer than the Bespin clouds. Her attire has changed, a silver top that is nearly identical to the daughter’s, a short armored skirt with a sash embroidered with the two symbols of Mortis.

Matching boots climb up to her knees, and a silver crown wraps up her lekku and rests atop the dip in her montrals.

Morai sat atop her headboard and there was no time to panic because her friendly convor is already leading her away. When she exits the halls and finally pushes through the castle’s front gate, a pack of hulking loth wolves howl upon her arrival.

Imbedded in stone in front of her is a familiar dagger, one that calls to her to wield it forever. To protect her new planet from the mother who had been steadily approaching before her sudden arrival.

Unsheathing the dagger, the howls grow deafening and the ever changing planet welcomes its ruler's arrival. Her wings unfold in a powerful arch, lifting her off her feet, the dagger raised in the air high above her head. 

The howling stops.

**Author's Note:**

> Snap: allisonw1122  
> Tumblr/twitter: webtrinsic1122  
> Insta:Webtrinsic


End file.
